Gilded Fortunes (closed for haremfaery)

[LongshanksSierra]

The sun fell lazily through a few scant clouds before coming to rest on the lush strands of grass that carpeted the expansive meadowland. The wind rustled through the grass that hugged the flanks of a small herd of sheep that grazed nonchalantly among the green slopes. The sheep's ears collectively pricked up as a distant thudding steadily grew louder and closer to their lunch. Eventually they bolted away en masse from the thudding as it grew into a loud thunder accompanied by the sight of a half dozen powerful horses churning up the turf. The horses tore across the meadow before leaping across a tall hedge that separated that world from the next. A few moments later the sheep cautiously went back to their lunch.

His Lordship, Constantine St. Clair, edged his charger along the outside of the pack as they neared another hedgerow. He was several inches taller and proportionally heavier than any of the other riders, but his dapple-gray steed still managed to move up to formation. The group thundered over a small knoll before plunging down the other side and clamoring down a dirt road at its base. St. Clair's horse moved away from the pack as they kicked up clods of dirt and clouds of dust while racing the stretch of highway. In the rapidly approaching distance a small crowd was gathered at the far end of a narrow stone bridge. Their cheers pulled the racers forward as St. Clair increased his lead over the others, charging across the bridge amid the waving scarves and handkerchiefs of the spectators.

"Three cheers for his Lordship St. Clair!" the burly book-maker shouted as the riders returned to the knot of spectators after a brief cool down trot. Constantine waved to the crowd among the cheering with a small half-felt smile. "And of course..." the book-maker continued as he walked up to St. Clair's large stallion hoisting a coin purse. "To the victor go the spoils!" There was another cheer as the burly man handed the purse over. His Lordship took the purse with a nod of his head and hoisted it a few times, judging its weight.

"My friends," St. Clair announced looking at the purse. "After such a strenuous ride, it seems discourteous to burden my steed with even more weight." He tossed the purse back to the book-maker. "Perhaps you can escort my fellow riders to the nearest public house and redistribute this wealth." This announcement met with even greater cheers, and after many shouts of thanks the group slowly made its way down the road to a small village nestled less than a league off.

Two figures were left standing in the road, Lord St. Clair on his gray and a somber gentleman in a black coat and hat. His lordship slid down from his saddle and plucked a silk handkerchief from the other man's pocket and mopped his brow with it. "I can read disapproval in your flaring nostrils Mr. Petersdale," Constantine said as he replaced the damp cloth in the man's pocket.

"Disapproval my lord?" Mr. Petersdale asked in an even tone.

"Yes, definitely disapproval. With a dose of reproach as well."

"If my lord wishes to exert himself with a common steeplechase prior to the celebration of his betrothal it is not in my wherewithal to disapprove or reproach."

"Enough, Percy," Lord St. Clair said with a good-natured pat on the other man's shoulder. "You can escort me back to my family if you wish. And be as cross with me as you like. After all you're not the one being sold into human bondage, so you can enjoy the day in any manner you like."

The two men began to walk down the road in the opposite direction of the village. "A marriage is hardly 'human bondage' my lord. Particularly to an old and established family such as the Rothenbergs. Your forthcoming matrimony to their eldest will strengthen the collegial bonds between your two families."

"And the bonds with their over-flowing golden coffers, I'm sure."

"My lord?" Mr. Petersdale asked as the two began to approach a line of brightly colored caravan wagons trundling down the road.

"Never mind, Percy," St. Clair sighed. "Let's go home."

 

[haremfaery]

Zigana was the name she used with the Gadjo (non-Romani). Her real name was Tsura, Light of the Dawn, since she was born just as the appeared after her mother had been in labor all night long.

The gypsies had made camp at the outskirts of the town near the land owned by Lord Constantine St. Clair. Two of the men had gone into his lordships grounds to hunt for rabbits, or squirrels, or pheasant.

The gypsies were travelers, never staying in one place for very long. In general they were thought to be thieves and scoundrels, liars and cheats. Amongst them was a tinker, and a knife sharpener. They would do the odd job here and there, jobs others with the money would rather pay than do themselves.

Tsura's mother had the gift and would read palms and tea leaves or the Tarot, even cast horoscopes for the ladies and girls who wanted to know if they would be rich and what their husband would be like. Her mother also made remedies using herbs for migraines, and joint pains, for women's problems, and to increase a man's potency.

So the gypsies were tolerated by the townspeople they came across. Women and girls would steal away during the day to learn their fortune. The men would steal away at night to lie with the gypsy women. The dusky skinned beauties with eyes black as sin.

Tsura was learning her mother's skills, but she was also a dancer. It was her joy and her passion. It aroused passion in others as well. She would dance and the Gadjo who said they came only to look, would no longer be satisfied and would hand over coins to Old Mala, who would count them carefully, then nod and one of the women would put her arm around the man's waist and lead him off to a wagon.

Tsura was lighter skinned that most in the clan and had green eyes. Probably because her father was a man like one of these who came sniffing around camp. She was a pretty girl and used it to her advantage.

There had been a steeplechase earlier and many of the townsmen were in high spirits. They would get drunk in the tavern and wend their way to the wagons to slate other appetites.

Tsura sat at a table outside sipping dandelion wine and looking at the cards spread before her. The Emperor, The Devil, The High Priestess, The Lovers. The four major arcana cards stood out against the minor cards. She pondered their placement and significance and what they meant for her future. Many swords---conflict. And the Queen of Pentacles. She smeared the cards around and pushed them back together when the violins began to play. It was time for her to dance. She carefully wrapped her cards in red silk and slipped them into a purple velvet bag that she had made herself and embroidered with symbols of protection. She took them to her wagon and put them in the highest spot she could reach. Then she tied her hair back with a red scarf and went to join the others around the fire.

She swayed to the music getting a feel for the rhythm. She swayed with the breeze feeling her connection to earth and sky and she began to dance.

 

[LongshanksSierra]

Lord St. Clair walked into the small study adjacent to his bedroom to find someone sitting in his favorite chair and drinking a large portion of his favorite brandy.

"Lord St. Clair!" the man exclaimed. "Welcome home!"

"Petersdale!" Constantine shouted. "Set the dogs loose. We have an intruder on the grounds."

"Now, now, now," The man said as he stood up. "Is that any way to greet your older brother? By setting the dogs on him?"

"My apologies Lord St. Clair," Constantine said dryly. "I didn't recognize you in that state."

"In a comfortably relaxed repose of deep reflection?"

"Sober."

"Ah." Constantine began to strip out of his garments that smelled vaguely of horse. "So, Robert, what brings you to my little corner of our family holdings?"

"I am preceding our illustrious father and mother. Who, at this moment, are escorting the retinue of Rothenbergs to your little corner of our family holdings for the formal introduction of your bride-to-be."

"You've met her then?"

"Lady Katherine Rothenberg? Yes I did." At that moment the elder Lord St. Clair found something intently interesting at the bottom of his brandy glass.

"And?"

"Did you wish to know something?"

"What was your impression of the lady?"

"A bit slender for my tastes, but skin like alabaster. Pale and flawless"

"But what was she like?"

"Alas," Robert said. "We did not engage in conversation."

The younger St. Clair pulled a fresh shirt from his wardrobe. "You are a positive well-spring of information and assistance."

"I live but to serve Lord St. Clair," Robert said with a small bow.

"Your servant, Lord St. Clair," Constantine replied while returning the bow.

"Good. Now finish getting dressed so we can formally introduce you to your future Rothenberg relatives."

* * *

The Rothenberg introductions were full of painful formalities and lasted until the sun began to set. The Baron and Baroness Rothenberg were even more ridgebacked and humorless than the Duke and Duchess St. Clair, as inconceivable as that seemed. Unfortunately 'ridgebacked' and 'humorless' would have been a marked improvement for Lady Rothenberg. Constantine St. Clair found his fiancee thoroughly uninspiring. The young lady was pretty enough to look at, but though a pretty enough portrait might inspire an emotional response by the viewer the lady Rothenberg provided no such response from the Lord St. Clair. She spoke little and her words were of no consequence. Constantine was so extravagantly disheartened at the whole situation that he seriously considered drinking himself into a month-long stupor. Fortunately the Rothenbergs were strict adherents to protocol and insisted on retiring to neutral territory instead of accepting the St. Clair's hospitality. This spared the young Lord St. Clair from having to endure their company longer than absolutely necessary.

Constantine knew he was in real trouble when his older brother abstained from any good humored ribbing on the forth-coming nuptials. Instead Robert St. Clair offered a more pragmatic suggestion. "Well brother," he began "that went well."

Constantine returned a pandering look.

"Very well. It went horribly. But it could be worse, she could be horrendously ugly."

"You are not helping brother."

"What you will come to understand about wives is this: you do not actually have to talk to them. Believe me, I know."

That managed to elicit a small chuckle.

"What I suggest now brother is the cure for all ills."

"I already thought of that. There's a bottle in the..."

"Not what I had in mind. Well, not exactly," Robert continued lifting his brother up by the arm. "You may or may not have noticed that a troop of gypsies have taken up camp nearby."

"What do you suggest sir?" Constantine asked with a smile.

"I suggest that there we will find wine and cheerful music brightly played," Robert St. Clair answered with a grin. "And I have it on good authority that gypsy women are unparalleled in the art of the dance. And, some have said, that they can be quite... mercenary... with their affections."

 

[haremfaery]

Tsura tossed her dark hair as she danced. She stamped her feet and rustled her skirt with her hands. Her skirt was made from yards and yards of brightly colored fabric. She threw the hem over her shoulder, with all the material only a bit of leg was exposed. Her face glowed in the firelight.

She noticed more men from the village had come to listen to the music and watch the dancing. She sidled up to one and wriggled her bottom at him. The next man, she leaned back and shook her shoulders. She straightened and took his mug from him. She took a long drink of his ale and handed his mug back with a laugh as she danced away again.

She took the measure of each man she passed assessing his clothing and manner, trying to decide if any would be worth her while.

 

[LongshanksSierra]

The two Lords St. Clair arrived in the gypsy camp shortly after sundown, tethering their horses to a sawn-off stump that seemed to have been designated for the task. The night was moonless, and all light came from the handful of fires that were spaced among the wagons. The gypsy men were scare but visible among the shadows all the same. They were there to serve a small reminder that while the village men were free to roam the camp at invitation, there would be no untoward foolishness. If they knew, or recognized, the patron of these lands they did not show it. The villagers were polite enough to pretend not to know that the St. Clairs were paying a visit to the gypsy camp.

"You know brother," Robert offered in a hushed voice. "I'm sure we could get a marked reduction in price tonight if we suggested turning the shire's reeve on them."

"We would hardly be considered good hosts by trying to extort our guests," Constantine replied.

"Less the guest and more the vagrant."

"Robert," Constantine warned.

"Fine. They are your holdings though, and the troop does owe you tax. It should be up to you on how you collect."

"You're incorrigible."

The two of them wandered through the camp listening to the music and watching a few of the dancers as the circled the camp fires. They soon came to one where one beauty was challenging the men around the fire with a particularly fetching strut. Her bare feet twisted over the turf while the flesh of her legs flashed from beneath the folds of her skirt. Her hips swayed in time with the music while her torso rolled seductively and her hands weaved through the air. Her dark hair was tied back in a red silken scarf, and while Constantine couldn't quite make out the color of her eyes in the low light they flickered mischievously in the fire.

Lord St. Clair found himself taking a seat on a bench next to the fire while a flagon of wine was pressed into his hands.

 

[haremfaery]

Tsura noticed the two men join the circle. She danced over to get a better look at them. Already their bearing made them stand out. When she got close, her suspicions were confirmed.These men were not village laborers. They had to be from the manor. She smiled seductively at them both. Much gold was to be had here.

She made a flirtatious shake of her shoulders and turned her back on the lords. She pulled her skirts forward and tight against her round bottom which she twitched in time to the drums. She turned around to face them again. She tossed her head flipping her hair and moved her hips suggestively. She danced away to flirt with other men in the circle, but always came back to the lords.

Tsura danced with abandon. Faster and faster as the drums beat louder. She stamped her feet and flicked her hips. As the drums built to a crescendo, she spun faster and faster. As the drums made a final loud thrum, she collapsed onto the ground with her knees bent under her and her arms flung out to her sides.

Tsura's bosom heaved as she caught her breath. She rose gracefully from the ground and went around the circle to collect tips. She made her way to the two men from the manor and looked at them expectantly. Since she was no longer dancing, she finally got a good look at them. They shared a likeness. Brothers no doubt. The age seemed right, one of them must be the lord--who was getting married soon from what the villagers were saying. She smirked. So this would be his last chance to bed a woman without violating his marriage vows.

She jingled her coin pouch expectantly.

 

[LongshanksSierra]

Constantine looked at the coin purse dangling in front of him as the dancer looked him boldly in the eyes. She had a half-smile twisting the corner of her mouth in an impish sort of way. The coin purse was full, but did not look particularly heavy. It must have been mostly copper and silver, earned from the hands of the village laborers. Lord St. Clair removed a few gold coins from his own pockets and weighed them in his fingers a moment. He then dropped them into his wine goblet and held it out to the girl.

"Join me for a drink?" he asked, indicating her to take a seat next to him on the bench. Constantine took the remaining goblet from his brother's hand, who surrendered it with a frown before moving off to find another one. The gypsy girl slid into the space with a warm, practiced smile. He movements were still graceful and fluid, and she had a knowing look to her eyes.

St. Clair himself wasn't entirely sure where he was going with this, even as his eyes briefly traveled the length of the woman sitting next to him. The bright fabric of her dress hugged the curves of her body in a mesmerizing way. She had a confident tilt to her chin, which seemed to subtly challenge him to notice how much leg she was showing. Her eyes continued to sparkle as she noticed his eyes taking in her in, and she leaned back slightly as if to offer him more of a view. Constantine took a sip from his wine as he realized that although he didn't know anything about this dancer, he already was far more interested in her than his perspective bride.

"How did you learn to dance like that?" he found himself asking. Probably the least interesting question that was on his lips at the moment, but it was the one that came out.

 

[haremfaery]

Tsura's grin widened at the lord's show of gold. She had good straight white teeth that showed her health. She was happy he had chosen to stop at her fire and not one of the other girls.

She took a long drink from the cup and sighed appreciatively. Her bosom rose and fell as she regained her breath. The musicians played a slower song now that she stopped dancing.

"The gold enhances the flavor much." She had a slight accent, different from the townspeople. It held the cadence of her people's language. Shge rolled her Rs as if tasting them before speaking. She smirked at him again. She looked him over, assessing him as much as he was assessing her. He wasn't fawning, she liked that. But then, he was a lord and bowed to no one but his king.

"You do not learn to dance. You live it. You breathe it. You love it." She leaned a bit closer to him with each sentence. "It is a passion." Her bold look implied it was a passion to be shared and not standing upright.

 

[LongshanksSierra]

Constantine felt himself lean forward slowly, matching the girl's movements unconsciously and putting their heads quite close together in the firelight. "It's all the more to be admired, if the dance comes naturally," he said. "And living... and loving... with such passion in your lives." Lord St. Clair felt an urge to reach out and brush a stray lock of hair that had fallen enticingly across her eyes.

"I feel somewhat neglectful. Having had some number of your tribes pass through my family's lands and knowing so little about your culture." He finally gave into the urge to move the hair from her face, letting his fingers brush her cheek in a lingering manner. "I would relish the opportunity to learn more about you, and the passions in your life." His words felt clumsy to his own ears, but Constantine saw a warm smile touch the girl's lips.

"Perhaps in a more... intimate... environment."

 

[haremfaery]

Tsura kept herself from beaming and just smiled. The fish was on the hook now, she just needed to pull him in. When she thought of all the gold that could be gotten from this man....the fact that he was handsome was all the better.

She doubted that he truly wanted to learn more about her people, but it was sweet that he said so.

"I have such a place--my wagon." She drained her cup and jingled the coins in the bottom. "But my friends are lonely. They require more companions. Then they will be happy to escort us."

He had already given her more coin than she would see in a week. But she felt that each should pay what they could afford, and this Lord could afford a lot.

She took a breath making her breasts rise and fall. One brushed his arm. Her dark eyes held many promises. Her hand moved to rest on his thigh. Her lips parted the tiniest bit.

She played the game well. She knew how to draw men in. When to be bold, when to act coy. He could have any whore he wished. He did not wish to be with a whore. What he wanted, she decided, was a girl who was wild and free. Free to act as she wished with whomever she wished. A girl who was passionate and not afraid to embrace that passion. She was just such a girl. She imagined none of his pale-skinned, satin-clad highborn ladies knew anything of passion.

 

[haremfaery]

Double post, don't know how that happened.

 

[LongshanksSierra]

Lord St. Clair felt the heat creep up through his constricting collar as the girl teased him with her body, while also seeming to offer it to him at the same time. He felt a slight twinge when she jingled the coins in her wine goblet. He didn't care about the money, the paltry amount meant nothing to him or his pocketbook, but he hated to think of this as strictly a business transaction. If he had wanted to pay for a woman's intimate embrace there were plenty who would accommodate with less theater. However, it had long been a policy of St. Clair's to never part with something simply because someone asked for it.

"Well my dear," Constantine said as he fished some more coins for the vessel. "I have enough such friends to share their companionship freely with new friends. Allow me to caution you however," he said holding the coins back for a second. "As escorts they serve pretty poor faire. Your virtue may be in danger," he warned as he dropped the coins into the goblet.

He was genuinely intrigued by this gypsy. She was bold but not wantonly so. Sensual, without being overtly lush or over ripe. Her exotic nature enhanced her beauty without overpowering it. Most important of all it was her spirit that promised sensual pleasures, rather than her mere flesh. But the flesh did not leave one wanting.

Lord St. Clair laid his hand gently on hers.

 

[haremfaery]

Tsura let out a genuine laugh. "Oh, my lord!" Her hand involuntarily squeezed his thigh as her mirth bubbled over. "I am afraid my virtue departed with companions far less noble than these some time ago." She remembered the baker's apprentice fondly every time she smelled fresh baked bread. What a night he had given her with his strong gentle hands and sweet awkward kisses. He had saved his money to be with her and their union was urgent, yet gentle. Her father beat her soundly for giving up her virginity without his permission and for so small a price, but she was always one to follow her heart rather than her head.

"I could attempt to play coy, if it pleases you, but it is really not in my nature." She leaned into him conspiratorially. I expect if you wanted coy, my lord would be somewhere with a woman who wears slippers and lace." She wriggled her bare toes and gave him an impish grin.

((You can have them head to her wagon if you want, or else I will on my next post.))

 

[LongshanksSierra]

Constantine watched her toes wiggle delightedly as the girl's laugh spilled out over the night. Her foot and ankle curved upwards to a shockingly revealed calf, but her smooth and slightly dusky skin glowed warmly in the firelight. Seeming to realize that her leg was under consideration, the girl stretched it enticingly.

"Well my dear," St. Clair said. "Since we no longer have to worry about virtues, then let's retire to your wagon so we can continue our conversation in private." Although in truth, conversation was the furthest thing from Lord St. Clair's mind. And, if the heat in her eyes was any sign, the same was true of the gypsy. She slid to her feet and with a look over her shoulder, led the way back among the wagons. She moved with the same sensual grace that lay in her dancing, her hips rolling in a slow strut. Constantine wondered if it was another tool in her seduction arsenal, or if the girl was even was aware she was doing it.

To Lord St. Clair the wagon couldn't be distinguished from its neighbors, but there was little doubt in the girl's steps as she strolled up the steps to the door. Constantine had to duck his head to enter the rolling establishment, and his head felt uncomfortably close to the ceiling. The wagon was slightly cluttered with this and that, but not uncomfortably cramped. But St. Clair didn't really pay much attention to the furnishings as his eyes fell upon his exotic hostess.

 

[haremfaery]

((Argh, I swear I posted something yesterday or the day before. I've been sick so maybe I typed it out and forgot to hit submit.))

Tsura waved her hand to take in most of the interior, "Please sit down." There were two wooden chairs near a small table that folded down from the side of the wagon and her bed. The bed had a few pillows covered in bright fabrics and a very colorful quilt.

She lit a pierced tin lantern that hung from the ceiling in the far corner. It cast a warm glow on her skin.

"I have wine--better than what we serve the Gadje." She gave him a saucy smile. She leaned down to pull a bottle from a low shelf giving him a nice view of her round bottom.

She turned back to him, "Unless you are impatient to see what your companions have bought you." She smirked at him and set her cup with his gold coins on the table along with the wine.

 

[LongshanksSierra]

Constantine took off his coat and laid it across the back of one of the small wooden chairs, sitting down there after a brief look at the inviting bed. He considered the girl's words before reaching for the bottle. "'Impatient' is the wrong word," he said while removing the cork. "'Eager', might be better, or 'desirous,'" St. Clair continued while pouring the wine.

"I've found that the greatest way to truly enjoy something, is in not rushing headlong into it. As much as you might want to." He took a long, slow sip from the goblet before offering it to the gypsy. The small tin lantern was sending out a soft glow that provided the perfect amount of light in the wagon. The light flowed over her skin in the most appealing way, and St. Clair was intoxicated with the notion that shortly there would be more to see.

He offered her his hand, and pulled her gently down into his lap before offering her the goblet in turn.

 

[haremfaery]

"I see. I like a man with self-control. It means he has strong character." Tsura said.

She watched him make himself at home in her wagon, as much as he had around the camp fire. He did not seem to be the sort of noble who had to keep reminding people of the fact. That meant he was secure in himself.

She settled into his lap and put an arm around his shoulder. The fabric of his shirt was very fine. Her fingers drew circles on his shoulder as she absently touched it. To have cuch clothes against one's skin...She was sure he slept on sheets made of the same stuff. She wondered what a shirt like this cost a man like him.

She held his eyes while she drank finding herself still more intrigued by this man. She handed the goblet back to him.

The things he was doing, the way he treated her, there was a level of intimacy that he was establishing between them that surprised her. She did not need to be wooed, but she found it very pleasant indeed that he should treat her thusly. She thought his wife would be a very lucky woman.